


Touch

by anotherFMAfan



Category: Fullmetal Alchemist (Anime 2003)
Genre: Fluff, M/M, Tooth-Rotting Fluff
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-05-14
Updated: 2016-05-14
Packaged: 2018-06-08 08:40:09
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 691
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6847486
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/anotherFMAfan/pseuds/anotherFMAfan
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"It was a paradox, no doubt about that, to feel something so mild from someone so hostile in words and attitude, toward him in particular." Anime 2003, originally posted March 2008. </p><p>I actually wrote this as platonic, but it's probably best labeled RoyXEd to be safe.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Touch

**Author's Note:**

> Oh, man, this is an oldie! XD Written only a few months after my first posted fic. 
> 
> I edited a word here and there for clarity, but no other changes from the original.

Mustang had marveled at this phenomenon more than once, and here it was again, in all its baffling glory. Utterly cautious, and… reverent, perhaps? But no, that wasn’t quite it.

He braced himself for the imminent impact, but it never came. Or rather, it did, but not in the way he had expected, because Edward shifted mid-air in order to hit the dirt first, and absorbed most of the impact. His Automail limbs were spread widely from him, to prevent any injury to Mustang when he landed squarely atop him. The air left Edward’s lungs in a painful-sounding _whoof_ , but despite it he immediately rolled the both of them and got to his feet, human arm wrapping around Roy’s waist to pull him to the cover of the nearest boulder. The touch was firm, urgent, but didn’t more than press, utterly careful and …gentle? That wasn’t quite right….

As Edward tried to gasp oxygen back into his chest, Roy peeked around the rock to locate their enemy, but his mind was still elsewhere. What _was_ that light touch? It was too functional to quite be a ‘caress,’ because Ed never brought their bodies into contact without a very good reason. What did it _mean?_  He couldn’t be imagining it, he had far too much evidence for that. It had been there for a long time now, since before that assessment, even.

“Colonel!” Edward warned, but before he had a chance to react, bullets exploded around him, and he was pulled back out of the line of fire by that infuriatingly vague touch. Careful and…almost tender?

Well yes, he mused as the two of them crouched, shoulder-to-shoulder, below the stream of gunfire. It wasn’t unnatural to draw that conclusion. Such a touch would imply care, even if it seemed unlikely from such a _source_. It was a paradox, no doubt about that, to feel something so mild from someone so hostile in words and attitude, toward him in particular. Yet that care had just saved his life -twice- without leaving a single bruise or scrape, had supported him, dead drunk, on the way home from the Christmas party, had woken him the first morning of their mission so gently he still wasn’t sure if he had dreamt it, had torn his skintight glove from his hand during the assessment without so much as nicking his skin.

“So?” Ed panted.

“‘So’ what?”

Fullmetal’s face darkened into a scowl.

“You’re the colonel, _jackass_ , so what do we do now?! We’re trapped, in case you didn’t _notice_.”

“The wall….?”

Edward shook his head.

“Too thick.”

“Over there—”

“Only room for one.”

There was another loud burst of bullets, striking the boulder and raining dry dust down on them. When the cacophony faded, he replied,

“Oh, no, there’ll be enough room for myself and someone of your size, easily.”

The slight made Edward look up at him in a mix of shock and fury.

“Here? _Here!_ ”

“Well why not? Are you _short_ on comebacks?”

The look Fullmetal gave him would have made the bravest of men turn tail, but behind them the swiftly dwindling rock split in two with a resounding _crack_ , and his wrath was temporarily postponed. Ed eyeballed the distance, and then what they could see of the other side of the boulder, and seemed to make up his mind. Looking back, he took hold of Mustang’s arm.

“If we get out of here alive, I’m going to kill you,” Edward spat vehemently, and got ready to sprint.

Roy grinned as he ran for his life, lead by the owner of the loving touch. Yes, that’s what it was. Loving. Occasionally it was firm and worried, sometimes gentle, at times tender, usually reverent, but always careful and loving. Although there had been times in his life when he’d been quite keen on dying, at that moment, as they squeezed through the small passage, Roy hoped to live. It may take him another five years of knowing Edward, but he wanted to find out what kind of love it was, _why_ it was— and most of all, he wanted to work to deserve it.

*          *          *          *          *          *


End file.
